orts at me as she pushes up a bit. "First, it's already morning. Second, I don't ever walk with shame, but I will have to surreptitiously slip out of here soon."
I don't like that idea. I thought just a minute ago that I didn't have any strength left, but I actually think I could get a second wind here pretty soon. Gray surprises me, however, when she sits up and inches backward, causing me to slip out of her. I can't help the groan that pops out just from that slight sensation.
With slender but sure fingers, Gray takes me by the base of my dick and pulls the rubber off of me. I'm still half erect when she releases me, my shaft coming to rest along my leg. She rolls of the bed and pads into the bathroom where I assume she disposes of the condom, then she's walking back toward the bed. Her breasts sway gently and her eyes are warm and mischievous as we stare at each other.
She crawls onto the end of the bed, right in between my legs, nudging them apart until she's kneeling before me. Gray slides a finger over my cock, which leaps at her touch, and then looks at me with one of her eyes obscured by a brilliant red lock of hair falling forward.
"Why did you have a condom in your wallet?" she asks, and I'm stunned by her question for a moment.
That's the last thing in the world I thought she'd ask. While I'm not necessarily comfortable telling her the reason while she's kneeling in between my legs, I go ahead and give her the truth.
"About three months ago...during preseason, I went out with a bunch of the guys after one of the games. Ended up getting drunk and a little intimate with one of the bartenders in the men's bathroom."
Gray wrinkles her nose up in distaste. "So you bought some condoms from the machine in the bathroom?"
"No, my tale is much sadder," I tell her with a dramatic sigh, reaching out to take her hands. I lace my fingers with hers and rest them on my stomach. "We were...um...you know to the part where a condom is needed and I didn't have one. She didn't have one. The bathroom didn't have one. I basically struck out because I didn't have protection, so I went out the next day and bought some and tucked a few in my wallet, promising myself I'd never be without again."
Gray strokes a thumb against mine, staring at the union of our hands. She asks me quietly, "And do you make it a habit to have sex with random women?"
I give her hands a hard squeeze until she looks at me. "No I don't make that a habit. That was the first woman I touched since I separated from my wife. I was drunk, but I don't make any apologies. I was horny and hadn't been laid in months. You're the second woman I've touched since then, and the first I've had sex with since my separation."
She lowers her face slightly, but I see the curve of her lips, pleased with that part of my answer. When she looks back up at me, she whispers, "It's been awhile for me too."
I squeeze her hands again and then pull on them so she leans over me. I lift my head up and kiss her. "So, Big Bang...what is your oversized brain telling you right now?"
She laughs and flops over to the side of me, turning on her side to face me. "It's telling me that researchers have vastly underrated the common orgasm as a means of relaxation."
"So we should probably do this again...and soon?"
"Definitely," she says, and then with a tentative hand, she lays it on my chest. "But we have to be careful. No one can know about this."
I knew this. It's not a surprise, but now that I've been balls deep inside of Gray, it suddenly doesn't set well that I have to keep her a secret. It means I'm not going to be able to see her whenever I want or even talk to her. I'll have to practically ignore her when we are around each other.
And this is exactly what I mean by the fact that I don't do flings. I'm the guy that loves relationships and everything that they mean. I like the comfort and solidarity of a partner. Even though Hensley betrayed me, I've never once given up on the idea of love and monogamy.
Can I have that with Gray?
I'm not sure, because while this is more than just sex, it's far less than a real relationship.
"And Ryker," she says as she looks at me with a hard glint in her eye. "I'm fining you a thousand dollars for that fight with Claude. You should have walked away."
I want to laugh. I really do, but I force myself to give her a serious nod of acceptance. "Understood."
But if she thinks I'll let him get away with talking that type of filth about her in my presence again, she's got another thing to learn about Ryker Evans. He does what he wants in protection of his own.
Chapter 12
Gray
For the very first time in my life, I can't concentrate.
I've never had a problem with it before, always able to put singular focus on any task I attempted. Even though I have an amazingly high IQ, I would never have accomplished what I have so far in life without the ability to funnel my thoughts with the precision of a drill team.
And yet this morning, every time I turn my attention to an order of business, I think of Ryker.
And what we did last night.
Oh, God.
The things we did last night, or rather...that was actually very early this morning. He fucked me for the third time around 4:30 A.M., and by 5 A.M. I was making the walk of shame on wobbly legs back to my hotel room. I had barely enough time to get a shower--where I washed his smell and feel away, relishing the soreness between my legs--before I took a car service to the airport to meet the team plane. I never ride the bus with the players, just as I always sit up in the first-class section with the rest of the execs who travel to the road games.
I was already in my seat next to my father when I felt rather than saw Ryker start to walk down the aisle toward me. My heartbeat skittered out of control and my palms grew clammy. He kept his eyes averted, looking straight ahead as he walked--no, strutted--down the aisle. Just before he passed by, he gave me a quick look and a cheeky smile. "Good morning, Miss Brannon."
I grinned and ducked my head before I ended up blushing like a schoolgirl idiot. I heard him tell my father good morning, and I had a stupid smile on my face the entire flight back to Raleigh.
While the players went home probably to get more rest, I went straight to the arena, which houses the executive offices. I imagine Ryker went to Zack's house to pick up his girls, Violet and Ruby. While we had a lot of sex last night, we also talked a lot, and I found out quickly that Ryker can talk for hours about his girls. I found this to be sweetly endearing and a little intimidating. I know nothing about kids. Never baby-sat one and never even held a baby. I tend to be awkward around them, never knowing quite how to talk on their level.
Still, I loved the light in his eyes when he told me that Violet wanted to be a concert cellist although he was trying to steer her away from that because there's no money in the arts, and that Ruby loves animals and bugs. His shudder was not very discreet when he told me that included an unnatural love of spiders, which totally made me smile. I loved all things buggy when I was growing up too, but mostly so I could dissect them and find out how they worked. I'm quite sure Ryker would not want me teaching his daughter that, because it sounds more sociopathic than budding genius.
The knock on my door startles me and I mentally slap myself for once again getting caught up in my memories. I remind myself again of the seriousness of what I'm doing, and that it has the potential to ruin me. It has the potential to ruin Ryker. We should both be running scared from each other, yet I just don't think either of us can do it.
We're both willing to risk it all for some secret stolen moments.
And damn...they were really, really great moments.
Hearing a knock on the door, I blurt out, "Come in," again chastising myself to shape the fuck up. It's time to work.
Frank Lessier walks into my office as scheduled. He walks with such an air of superiority it rankles at me hard. Especially since I know he's the biggest opponent of my father's naming me GM. Rumor has it that Frank's got feelers out to move to another organization, and while I think he's done a good job for the Cold Fury so far, I'm not going
to be sad if he leaves. In five minutes I could have ten qualified replacements, and while they may not agree with my methods, they wouldn't go overboard in trying to tear them down.
I watch silently as Frank struts in and sits down in one of the plush chairs opposite my desk. As always, he's immaculately groomed and put together in a designer suit and four-hundred-dollar haircut. The strong smell of expensive cologne hits me hard, almost causing my gag reflex to fire up, and makes me miss that fresh scent that always seems to cling subtly to Ryker.
Concentrate, Brannon!
"Let's hash it out, Frank," I say abruptly, starting the meeting, which is on my turf. Letting him know I'm not afraid to go toe to toe with him any day of the week.
He casually crosses a leg over the other, flicks at a piece of lint on his knee, and gives me his attention. "I think Ryker Evans is bad news. While granted he's playing great right now, he's going to threaten the morale of this team eventually. That's two teams, two teammates he's gotten into a fight with. And he's come out the winner in each one."
I lean forward, cross my arms, and rest them on my desk. "Let's just get this out of the way. I'm not even going to address the altercation Ryker had with Sutter. That's before he came here, and while it's not my policy to condone violence, I can understand what drove him. As far as what happened with Claude, we have to look at the circumstances--"
"For Christ's sake, Brannon. He split Amedee's cheek open. The guy is a walking time bomb."
Anger flashes hot but I'm rock steady when I say, "Do you know why he attacked Amedee?"
"No, and I don't care to. There's no excuse for what he did."
My lips curl up maliciously. "I'm curious, Frank. What if he said he wanted to shove his dick down your daughter's throat? Or what if he thought your wife was too uppity but that could be cured by fucking her hard to put her in her place? What would you do if you heard him saying that?"
Frank's face pales and he mutters, "He said that about Evans's daughters? His wife?"
I don't bother correcting his false assumption, because he gets my point. "I thought you said it doesn't matter the reason," I throw back at him.
He's muted silent and I use the opportunity to strike fast. "I've already talked to Evans and I've fined him a thousand dollars. I'm going to talk to Amedee this afternoon."